


The Definition of Hostility

by Right_hand_boi



Category: Transplant (CTV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Racism, im sorry bashir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23388862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Right_hand_boi/pseuds/Right_hand_boi
Summary: A racist teen takes things too far
Comments: 17
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If anything is offensive or insensitive (besides the obvious racism), please let me know.
> 
> Now cross posted to fanfiction.net

"Are you a terrorist?"

Those are the first words Dr. Bashir Hamed hears when he walks into a hospital room containing an unconscious teen and his friend sitting vigil by the bed.

Bashir picks up the chart at the end of the bed, which says the patient’s name is Fred Sangster. He pretends he didn't hear the accusation that was just thrown at him and begins to check Fred's vitals on the monitor, comparing them with what is already written down. He pens the vitals onto Fred's chart and moves to put it back on the end of the bed.

"Are you a terrorist?" Fred's friend asks again, his piercing blue eyes glaring at Bashir. "Can I get another doctor?"

"No, I am not a terrorist," Bashir replies calmly. "My name is Dr. Bashir Hamed, and you are…?”

"Percy," the teen sneers, crossing his arms and glaring once more at Bashir. "So, can we have a different doctor, or what?"

"I am a qualified doctor," Bashir tries to reassure the teen. "I am not a terrorist.”

Abruptly, Percy stands from his chair and stalks over to Bashir. "I don't believe you,” he snaps, stabbing a finger into Bashir’s chest.

Bashir steps back to regain some personal space and stares at him, then shrugs and pulls out his phone to text Dr. Magalie Leblanc.

"Hey, what are you doing?! Don't bring any more of your friends in here! One is enough!" Percy cries out, a tad too loudly. He is silenced by a reprimanding glance from the doctor, who points to his friend on the bed.

"You said you want another doctor." Bashir waves his phone. "I am asking a co-worker to come and assist you."

Five awkward minutes later, Mags enters the room. She casts a curious glance to Bashir, wondering why she was summoned. The text has simply stated: _need your help with a patient. Please be fast._

"Hey, Bash," she says, trying to take in the situation. "What do you need help with?”

"This young man requested a different doctor, and I think you're the best person to take over," he responds robotically. Mags sends him a concerned look. She had heard this tone of voice only once before, when he had revealed that he had treated enemy soldiers at gunpoint. This is what he does to control his emotions when he in distress.

"Thanks for your confidence, Bash, but wouldn’t Theo be better? He _is_ a pediatrician. And this teen looks younger than 18,” she points out.

"Right," Bashir affirms softly. "I'll text him and see if he’s busy." He clumsily unlocks his phone and starts typing.

Red flags pop up in Mags’s head. Bashir does not forget things very often. She eyes the angry teen before her. _He must be the reason for Bashir’s sudden timid behaviour_ , she muses.

Percy turns his glare to Mags. "Do you seriously believe this guy? Are you sure he's a doctor? Does he even have official papers? How do you he’s not going to blow up this building?"

Mags's jaw drops open in shock. She had been mistrustful of Bashir at first because he had waltzed in one day and claimed to be a doctor, 2 weeks after running away from the hospital. Not because he’s from Syria. She turns to Bashir and tries to make eye contact, but he is steadfastly staring at a point over the boy's - _George? Ron?_ \- shoulder and avoiding her questioning eyes.

Dr. Theo Hunter strides into the room at a leisurely pace. He is one of the best pediatricians in this hospital and a close friend to the other two doctors. His steps stutter when he sees Mags already there and _not_ looking happy. His steps stop completely when he sees Bashir’s hunched shoulders and lowered head. This is the complete opposite of the confident young doctor he works with on a daily basis.

"Hey, Bash, heard you need a hand with a younger patient," Theo announces. "It looks like you already have some help, though..." he trails off uncertainly, sending a puzzled gaze over to Mags. She shrugs helplessly at his wordless questions.

"I don't want my friend treated by a terrorist." All three doctors whip their heads in Percy’s direction, seemingly forgetting his presence in the room.

Theo closes the distance between him and the teen, stopping mere inches away from him. "Let me get this straight: you think my friend, Dr. Hamed, is a terrorist?" Each word is slowly enunciated, giving the teen time to take back his words.

"Yeah, look at him! He barely even knows English, and he’s so twitchy, like he's going to press a button and run!" Percy looks Bashir over from head to foot. He smirks condescendingly at what he sees.

"Empty your pockets,” Percy demands. “Or do you have something to hide?”

Mags and Theo meet each other's horrified gaze, too stunned to say anything. Then the spell is broken, and they loudly protest, tripping over their words.

"Young man, I don't know who you think you are - "

"How dare you demand a doctor to empty his pockets - "

"Mags. Theo." Bashir speaks up quietly. He lays a gentle hand on their shoulders. Then he turns to stare at Percy head-on. "Yes, I will empty my pockets."

He steps over to grab the little table that is at the end of Fred's bed. Grasping it with trembling fingers that only Mags and Theo notice, he pulls it towards himself, making sure to keep a sizable distance between himself and the suspicious teen.

"Bash, you don't need to do this - " Mags starts but falls silent as Bashir meets her eyes over his shoulder with an unreadable expression.

"Yes. I do have to this," he replies, turning to face her completely. "I knew what I would have to deal with, moving to this hospital. I will not be fired under the accusation of being a _terrorist_ ," he practically spits the last word, baring his teeth slightly. Bashir closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he smiles slightly at Mags and Theo before turning his back to them and facing Percy again.

Reaching into the left pocket of his pants, the doctor pulls out his phone and places it carefully on the table. A notepad, three pens, a pack of hair elastics, and a die soon join the phone. His other pocket contains gauze, a covered scalpel, medical tape, another pen, and a crinkled piece of paper.

Percy snatches up the paper and unfolds it to reveal a note saying, "Have a great day Bashir! I'll see you after school. Remember: I get off 30 minutes LATE, so don't pick me up too early. Love, Amira." Smiley faces and very unflattering pictures of the doctor himself are placed all around the text.

"Who's Amira?" He wrinkles his nose. "Her writing is awful."

"She is my sister," Bashir forces out through gritted teeth. "Do not insult her, please."

Heaving an exhausted sigh, he reaches in his shirt pocket, which only has a notepad and two elastics which had been twisted together too tightly to be separated. He smiles softly at the memory of a young girl laughing at him and Dr. Bishop threatening to fire him when she had sent hundreds of elastics to the hospital, perfectly joined.

Bashir spreads his arms to indicate that there is nothing more to see. "Are you happy, Percy?" Percy merely scowls.

With that, Bashir begins to pick up his stuff, messily shoving them in his pockets. His hands are shaking enough to knock his phone to the floor. Cursing his bad luck, Bashir bends down to pick it up, but freezes when the familiar weight of his father's stethoscope disappears from his neck.

"Hey!" He yells. Bashir quickly stands to face the teen and immediately wishes he had stayed down.

Percy holds the stethoscope in one hand, and the scalpel in the other. He places the stethoscope around his own neck mockingly, while slowly removing the protective covering of the scalpel, revealing the sharp blade. He stares at Bashir the whole time, daring him to do something.

Bashir's eyes widen fractionally but he otherwise seems calm. "What are you doing?” He asks in a soft voice, hands held where they can easily be seen in the universal surrender sign.

Although he appears calm, Mags and Theo know better. They observe their friend's hunched posture, the way his shoulders rise and fall just a bit too fast to be healthy, the slight tremble in his hands that are still held up.

Bashir takes a slow step towards Percy. "Percy, please put down the stethoscope. It is very important to me," he whispers. "Please put it down."

Percy stares into the man's eyes and is taken aback by the raw panic in them. Hands shaking, he slowly removes the stethoscope from around his neck, noticing how the man relaxes fractionally and heaves a small sigh of relief.

Anger crawls up Percy’s throat, and he suddenly slices through the rubber tubing of the stethoscope with all his strength.

Everyone freezes. Time stops.

The chest piece of the stethoscope falls to the floor with a dull clink. Time restarts.

Smirking, Percy looks to the doctor, hoping to see anger and frustration on his face. Instead, there is anguish and absolute terror. He steps back, startled.

Bashir's face threatens to crumple, but he forces it to remain calm. He is unsure how calm it is, though; he knows his lips are trembling with the effort and he can barely see the teen through his tears. He pinches the bridge of his nose, forcing back his emotions.

Without a word, Bashir stoops down and retrieves the chest piece of the stethoscope, gently cradling it to his chest. He stands and walks over to Percy, who tries to back away. What if the doctor beats him up?

The doctor raises his hand and holds it at chest height, waiting for the rest of the stethoscope.

"What? You want this?" Percy dangles the broken stethoscope by the broken tubing, swaying it back and forth. He whips his arm suddenly, and the earpiece smacks Bashir directly in the mouth. The doctor grunts in pain as a trickle of blood runs down his chin from his busted lip.

Instinctively, Bashir raises a hand to his face and applies pressure to stop the bleeding.

At Bashir's grunt of pain, Theo runs out of the room to get Dr. Bishop. He’ll know what to do. Mags quietly begins to gather the rest of Bashir's belongings.

Bashir once again holds out his hand. He says nothing, but Percy knows that this is not a request. Reluctantly, he shoves the stethoscope into the doctor's waiting hand. He risks a glance up and flinches from the coldness in the man's eyes.

Bashir turns on his heel and practically runs to the door, colliding into Dr. Bishop, who had returned with Theo.

Dr. Bishop’s arms shoot out to balance the younger man who immediately stiffens in his hold and backs away slightly. Bashir mumbles a thanks and hurries out. His blank stare deeply unsettles his boss, who watches Bashir leave with a touch of concern to his otherwise stoic face.

"What is going on here?" Dr. Bishop demands. He nods curtly to Mags and Theo, who promptly exit the room to search for their friend, leaving Percy alone with the furious Chief of Emergency Medicine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mags and Theo console their friend

Bashir jogs through the halls of the hospital, expertly avoiding collisions with both patients and doctors. Doctors running around is a common sight, so nobody questions him, assuming he is rushing to save a patient. Finally, he spots his destination: the locker room.

The room is empty; thank goodness for small miracles. Bashir ignores the plush chairs beside the two rows of dull green lockers and chooses instead to settle on the floor, his back resting against a cold metal door. He draws his knees to his chest and lays his arms on them. With bated breath, he slowly opens his fists which had been clenched around his broken stethoscope. Scooting forward and leaning back on the lockers, Bashir rests the two stethoscope pieces atop his knees, the tubing connected to the earpiece trailing down his right knee. He stills after this and stares blankly at his knees, barely even blinking.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

This is how Mags and Theo find him 30 minutes later, each having checked on their patients before booting it to the locker room. Theo enters first, peeking his head around the door in case Bashir was changing. At the lack of nakedness, Mags pushes past him and barges in. The worried doctors notice their friend sitting on the floor, seemingly asleep judging by his stillness. Upon closer inspection, Mags realises that Bashir’s eyes are open and staring beyond his knees. She crouches down in front of him and tries to get his attention.

Bashir does not seem to notice her. He stares right through her, not reacting when she waves a hand in front of his eyes. Noticing this, Mags shoots a panicked glance at Theo who is crouching to his side. His eyes reflect her unease.

“Bash. Hey. Bashir,” Theo tries. Once again, Bashir shows no reaction. Deciding to try a different approach, Theo motions for Mags to move back. She sends him an odd look but complies.

Hesitantly, Theo lays a hand on Bashir’s shoulder, which elicits an immediate reaction. Bashir stiffens under Theo’s hand and lashes out, frantically trying to escape the unknown danger. His broken stethoscope falls to the floor, which Mags places on a chair.

“Whoa! Hey, buddy, we’ve got you,” Theo tries to soothe his friend. Paying no heed to Theo’s soothing words, Bashir continues to thrash against the older man’s hold, sharp gasps escaping his parted lips.

Theo slips behind Bashir and tangles their lower limbs, effectively pinning Bashir’s legs down. He catches Bashir’s flailing arms and hugs the younger man tightly, which forces Bashir’s arms to still. He says nothing and rests his chin on Bashir’s tense shoulder.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Bashir slumps against Theo, completely exhausted. He clenches his eyes shut and wills his tears away, but to no avail. They seep under his eyelids and trail down his face, which twists in his anguish. He refuses to open his mouth, knowing that he will be unable to stop his grief from overwhelming him.

His eyes snap open when gentle hands wipe the tears from his cheeks. The compassion in Mags’s eyes unravels Bashir further and a broken keen escapes him. He suppresses it the best he can, which results in an odd choking noise.

“Hey, none of that,” Theo chides. Suddenly, strong arms are under Bashir’s legs, relocating them to straddle Theo’s waist. A firm hand to the back of his head brings his face down to rest on Theo’s shoulder.

Bashir can no longer control himself, and the dam breaks. Sobs wrack his frame and tears immediately soak the cloth under his face. His father’s face appears behind his eyelids, making him cry harder. He can barely breathe.

Mags sits next to Bashir, and he turns his head to meet her watery eyes. She runs her fingers through his hair, gently shushing him when he tries to apologize. Theo’s gentle hand rubs his back.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

After an eternity, Bashir’s cries slow and stop. He wearily lays his head on Theo’s shoulder, letting out a shuddering sigh. Quiet voices talk above his head, but he is too exhausted to care. The fingers in his hair disappear, and he has to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. Theo notices, though, and simply squeezes him tighter. Moments later, a damp paper towel cleans the mess off his face. He opens his eyes and slurs out his thanks.

Mags resumes stroking his hair, smiling when he leans into her touch with a sound of contentment. Her smile softens as Bashir’s eyelids droop closed and he nods off in Theo’s arms, only to jerk awake.

“Go to sleep, Bashir, we’ve got you,” she croons. Bashir obeys her and lets his eyes flutter shut, where they will stay for a few hours.

Theo and Mags watch their friend’s face smooth out as he falls deeper into sleep’s hold. His body relaxes entirely, and his breaths come out slow and even. Mags presses a kiss to his brow, freezing when he twitches. He settles down, and she sighs in relief.

“Let’s take him to Dr. Bishop’s office,” Theo states. He awkwardly struggles to his feet with the young doctor in his arms. Mags bites her cheek to stop from grinning when Theo has to shuffle around.

He shoots her a playful glare. “You wanna try? Though he is lighter than he should be…” he comments with a frown.

Mags grabs Bashir’s stethoscope and follows Theo out of the locker room. They must make an odd pair: a dark-haired doctor carrying a man taller than himself and a light-haired doctor carrying a broken stethoscope with reverence.

The duo arrives at Dr. Bishop’s office and Mags knocks lightly on the door. She prays that Dr. Bishop is in.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Upon hearing the knock on his door, Dr. Bishop heaves himself out of his chair to answer it, taking off his glasses and laying them down on his desk. He expects a doctor, perhaps, or maybe a nurse. What he _doesn’t_ expect is Theo carrying a sleeping Bashir with Mags beside him holding Bashir’s stethoscope.

The senior doctor cocks his eyebrow at them, but steps back and ushers them in. “I’m assuming you’d like to use my couch,” he drawls quietly. As the younger doctors place their friend on the couch, Dr. Bishop reaches under his desk to grab a blanket that he most certainly does _not_ use when he wants to catch some shut eye.

Mags kisses Bashir’s forehead, then stands back as Dr. Bishop approaches with the blanket. He lightly tosses it over the slumbering doctor and gently secures it. Mags and Theo smirk at each other when Dr. Bishop runs his hand through Bashir’s hair with a tender expression.

Sighing, he stands and moves back to his desk, gesturing for the two doctors to take a seat. All compassion slips off his face, leaving only a stoic professionalism. “How bad was it?”


End file.
